


Call When You're Around

by PyroKlepto



Category: Judging Amy, Psych
Genre: (seriously this is very much an alternate universe), AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, Brothers, Family, Family Feels, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-13 06:25:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5698330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PyroKlepto/pseuds/PyroKlepto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlton Lassiter has put his past behind him, and never wants to think about it again - why bother when fond memories are so far and few in between? No one else knows about who he was before he came to Santa Barbara, and that's the way he wants it to stay. But when someone very familiar shows up practically on his doorstep, Lassiter realises that the past always catches up to you. And not always in the way that you expect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One Hell Of A Night

**Author's Note:**

> I was discussing an idea with my dear friend Grigiocuore yesterday that spurred me to write this. I won't say anything more until the second chapter, because in doing so, that would give away the entire little surprise at the end of this one, if you haven't figured it out already. I'll explain in the next chapter's notes. For now, enjoy and feel free to leave comments!

“Carlton. Wake up.”

Lassiter lifted his head suddenly from where it had been resting against his arms, and looked up. Juliet stood there, brow furrowed with concern. 

It registered in his mind that he had been slumped over on his desk, asleep. Clearing his throat, he sat up a bit straighter, smoothing his rumpled sleeves. “What is it, O’Hara?”

“You were passed out on your desk, that’s what,” Juliet retorted, giving him a concerned stare. She touched his shoulder. “You should sleep, Carlton. And I mean properly. Take a few days off and get some rest. After that drug bust, you deserve a break.” 

“I don’t need a break, I’m fine,” Lassiter replied, shaking his head. He reached up, combing his fingers through his hair and smoothing down the curls that had sprung free of their styled confines. 

He heard no response from her, but felt like he was being watched. When he looked up again, he realised he was - Juliet was giving him the stare he had come to call the _Stern Mother Hen Look_. “O’Hara–” 

“You need rest,” she stated.

He sighed. “I will not take time off work, there is no way that’s possible. But I will attempt to take it easy.” He raised his eyebrows. “Satisfied?”

She quirked one eyebrow in response. “No. But it’s going to have to do, considering you’re too stubborn to do otherwise.”

He gave her a slightly sardonic smile in response. She rolled her eyes with a half-amused, half-annoyed huff and turned away to go back to her own desk. 

Lassiter clenched his jaw hard to keep a yawn from escaping, then sighed and got up. Maybe a cup of coffee would help keep him from seeming too drowsy - the last thing he needed was Chief Vick catching onto the fact that he was tired. He hoped Juliet wouldn’t bring it up; he had no hope of resisting the both of them at once. 

Armed with coffee (and plenty of sugar with it) and a renewed determination to stay awake, Lassiter returned to his desk to work.

 

Later that day - at around 8pm - Lassiter was off-duty and tired. He knew he should go home and sleep, but he didn’t much feel like it; so instead, he made his way to the local bar for a drink or two. It was generally what he did when memories or emotions threatened to become overwhelming, and that was the case today.

He hated being tired. He needed to do his job, and he needed to do it with the utmost perfection. Sleeping was just an inconvenience, and one he despised as it was - it wasn’t as though he slept very well in the first place. He could never shut his mind off, so he stayed awake for hours after actually getting into bed. So he didn’t really see the point.

Of course, as today had showed, the point was that he needed it in order to function normally. 

“Detective.” The bartender nodded at Lassiter as he sat down at the bar. “The usual?” 

This was also a common occurrence. The bartender had the entire routine down. If Lassiter showed up, that meant that he neither wanted to have a lengthy conversation nor social interaction. He would order a glass of scotch, then go sit down; a few more scotches would be ordered, maybe an Irish coffee if he was feeling less somber, and then he would leave - usually to go home. 

“Yeah. The usual.”

A few minutes later, Lassiter was seated at one of the tables near the back - away from everyone else - sipping at a scotch and staring off into space.

Not too much time passed before he heard a commotion; it sounded like a fight, coming from outside. Everyone in the establishment who wasn’t flat-out drunk was staring toward the door, alert but unmoving. 

Well, if no one else was going to investigate, then he would. It was his job anyway. 

Lassiter pushed his chair away from the table and strode through the bar, opening the door and making his way outside. 

Three men were brawling with one another outside on the sidewalk. A woman crouched a few yards away, half-hidden behind a car, bleeding from the head with an expression of terror. 

Lassiter’s first rapid-fire thought was that one of the men was a friend or family member and trying to defend her, but then he heard the men snapping at one another, all three of them saying something to the effect of _no, she’s mine_ and realised that was not the case and this was something much more disturbing.

His lips pressed into a thin line and he went rigid, fighting back his anger in order to think clearly. He drew his gun. “Everyone freeze! SBPD.”

It took a moment, but the men broke apart, breathing hard, scowling, fists clenched as their eyes were all turned on Lassiter, who stood tall on the sidewalk. 

“Don’t move,” Lassiter ordered. He needed to arrest them - all of them - but mentally debated upon how to do so. He could probably fit them all in the backseat of his car; but could he do it alone?

He knew he should call for backup. But that would be admitting a weakness, would it not? He didn’t need help, he could do this. 

Hell. He didn’t even have a second pair of handcuffs. There was no way he was going to get them back to the police department without help. 

Grinding his teeth and shoving back feelings of inadequacy, Lassiter reached for his cell phone, keeping his eyes and his gun trained on the three men. He pressed the button that would speed-dial the police department and waited. 

When someone answered, he told them what was happening and gave them an address. It shouldn’t take too long for backup to arrive - the bar was only a few blocks from the police department.

He stood there in the night, light from the bar pooling around his feet as he kept an eye on the three men. The woman was still behind the car; his best bet was that whatever blow she had sustained to her head had dazed her to the point where she hadn’t yet considered running. 

“What are you gonna do? Wait for help?” one of the men asked. “Can’t just shoot us and move on, huh?”

Lassiter disguised his anger with a mirthless grin, showing teeth. “Oh, I’d like that, but unfortunately I actually have a moral code, which is more than I can say for you three scum-suckers.”

A beat of silence, and then suddenly the man who had spoken started moving forward. Lassiter stood his ground, though a wave of uneasiness washed over him. “Freeze.”

“You’re gonna have to shoot me to stop me. Can you do it?” The man kept moving slowly forward, toward Lassiter. “I don’t think you can.”

Oh, he could. Lassiter slid the hammer back - he didn’t want to do this, he hated doing this, but he could and he knew he could - ready to fire. But then sirens and flashing blue-and-red lights came swerving around the corner, and the man spun around, distracted.

Lassiter took that moment to move forward and club his opponent over the head with his gun. The man toppled over and Lassiter stood over him, watching the remaining two without blinking. 

He hadn’t really had a reason to do what he did. But anger - both toward their mistreatment of the girl and toward his own feelings of frustration at not being able to handle things himself - had drove him to doing something he normally wouldn’t do.

Officers McNab, Calhoun, and Alessi exited the two squad cars and approached. Lassiter repeated what had happened to them - McNab was looking from the unconscious man on the ground to Lassiter with a questioning gaze, but Lassiter didn’t want to deign his silent inquiry with anything more than, “He tried to make a move on me and I took care of it.” 

As the officers arrested the three men, Lassiter glanced over toward the car. The woman still crouched there, staring wide-eyed. He made his way over to her and reached out; she flinched away from his touch, trembling. 

Dammit. This was O’Hara’s area of expertise - the comforting, the warmth, the gentleness. Lassiter was no good with any of that. He wondered if he should switch places with Officer McNab; even he was better with kindness than Lassiter.

But no, McNab was currently pushing a thug into the back of a squad car and Lassiter didn’t feel that interrupting would be a professional idea. So he drew in a deep breath, reminded himself to think like O’Hara would, and knelt down on the ground beside the woman. “Uh… don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m Detective Lassiter.” He reached out again, very slowly, tentatively, giving her the chance to shy away a second time if she wanted.

And she did. He flinched somewhere inside, agitated that she was so scared of him at the same time as understanding why. “All right, well… look, you’re hurt. If you come with me, I can take you back to the police department, and you can stay there until the ambulance arrives. Or I can stay with you here.”

She looked at him, drawing in a shuddery breath, and he remained kneeling, unmoving, reluctant to make a single motion that might startle her. Finally, she said very quietly, “I d-don’t want to ride in the car with them.”

There were three cars; three men. Of course. 

“You don’t have to.” Lassiter looked up and caught Officer Alessi’s eyes, motioning for him. “Alessi.” The officer approached and Lassiter nodded toward his own car. “I’m going to stay here with her until the ambulance arrives. Will you take my car?” 

Officer Alessi nodded, then turned and made his way toward Lassiter’s vehicle, getting into the driver’s seat. Lassiter turned back to the woman. She was still shivering, and he noted her sleeve was torn. 

This was something he didn’t need to think like O’Hara for; this was something he had always known to do. He slipped out of his jacket, leaving himself in nothing but a white shirt and necktie. He carefully reached out, holding the jacket, and she flinched again. He stopped. “Here.” He moved forward slowly, very slowly, and draped the jacket around her shoulders with as much gentleness as he could muster; he let only the jacket touch her, avoiding making any contact with her himself. 

She slid her arms into the sleeves and hunched her shoulders, almost disappearing into the jacket - she couldn’t be more than five feet tall, so it was a very large fit. At least it was warm. 

Lassiter sat down on the ground crosslegged. The ambulance had been called immediately after the squad cars had arrived, so it probably wouldn’t be too long. At least, he hoped it wouldn’t be; the night was cold. Winter was slowly reaching its end, but it hadn’t quite left yet.

Just as he was fairly certain his fingers were about to turn blue, the ambulance showed up and stopped beside the curb and several paramedics exited. Lassiter stood but remained where he was, making sure that they knew what had happened and that the young woman was taken care of. She was, by two female paramedics - the only ones she would let close to her.

They gave her some blankets and returned his jacket to him. He put it back on, shivering slightly and watched until the ambulance drove away.

He didn’t have his car, which he should have realised far sooner than he had. But it had been a hell of a night, so he allowed himself the momentary slip of memory. He walked inside the bar and approached the bartender.

“You okay?” the bartender asked.

“Fine.” Lassiter placed some money on the counter. “For my drinks. Plus one extra.” 

The bartender said nothing more, pouring a glass of scotch and sliding it toward Lassiter, who still stood at the counter. He downed it all in one go, warmth spreading down his throat and through his chest. Then he set the glass down, nodded his farewell to the bartender, and left.

The walk back to the police department seemed to take longer than it usually did, but he refused to call anyone - he didn’t need help. He wasn’t some weakling who couldn’t walk a few blocks.

He walked inside, taking long strides without looking anywhere but straight ahead, and approached the first officer he saw. “Did the three men from outside the bar get locked up without a problem?”

The woman nodded. “Yes, sir.” 

“Good.” Lassiter started toward where the jail cells were; if there was going to be an interrogation that night, he wanted to be a part of it.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to happen. The chief stopped him outside her office. “Detective, where are you going?”

“To check on the men brought in just now,” Lassiter replied.

“No, you aren’t.” She regarded him with a stern look.

He blinked, confused. “What do you mean, I’m not?”

“Look, Detective.” She drew in a breath, straightening up. “You were already very helpful in arresting them. It’s late, and you’re off-duty - you need to go home and get some rest.”

Great. O’Hara went to the chief after all.

“With all due respect, I’m fine, I don’t need to go home yet,” Lassiter said, trying very hard not to protest too vocally.

She gave him a bit of a smile, and it was meant to be reassuring, but Lassiter only felt as though it was patronising. “Detective, you work very hard as it is, and you are great at what you do. Go home and rest. Please.”

“I need to interrogate–” Lassiter began.

“They won’t be let out of their cells until tomorrow,” Vick interrupted. “I was already planning to ask you to be in charge of the interrogation; but only if you go home and sleep.”

Now she was treating him like a child. At least, that was how it felt - Lassiter kept telling himself that that was ridiculous, trying to convince himself. “Okay. Goodnight, chief.”

He didn’t wait for a response before turning and making his way back to his desk, jaw working. And then suddenly he heard the last voice he wanted to hear.

“Lassieee, how’s it hanging?”

He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, staring straight ahead. Then he turned to face the self-proclaimed psychic. “Spencer, I do not have time for this.”

“Oh, c’mon, I’m just being friendly,” Spencer replied, leaning against the desk and toward Lassiter - a little too close for comfort.

“Yeah. Well.” Lassiter took a step back and finished gathering together a folder of paperwork. “I don’t have the time for friendly.”

“Congratulations on arresting those guys earlier,” Shawn said.

“How did you even know about that?” Lassiter asked. He paused, tilting his head upward for a minute. “For that matter, why are you even here? It’s late, you’re usually at home watching crappy television at this point, at least according to Guster.”

“It’s not crappy,” Spencer replied. “As for how I knew, I’m psychic. I thought maybe you could have used some help.”

Lassiter gritted his teeth. If one more person insinuated he couldn’t handle things himself… “No, I didn’t, and I don’t.” He started to walk away, and Spencer darted in front of him, cutting him off. “Spencer!”

“All right, all right, no need to get your shorts in a knot, Lassie-face,” Spencer said, patting his shoulder. “One more thing and then I’ll let you go home to get your beauty sleep - which you don’t need by the way.”

Lassiter glowered at him. “Spencer. Move.”

“I cannot believe you walked right past your doppelgänger on your way in here and didn’t even notice.”

“My _what_ ,” Lassiter asked flatly, scowling. He was not in the mood to listen to any of Spencer’s pointless ramblings.

“Your _doppelgänger_ , Lassie,” Spencer repeated, raising his eyebrows. “He looks almost exactly like you. He was sitting outside on the bench near the door; you had to have walked right past him and not even noticed.”

“Okay, you know what,” Lassiter said. “I refuse to sit here and listen to you spin tall tales. Save those for Guster. Now let me go home.” He brushed past Spencer and strode away. 

But curiosity got the better of him, so when he walked out into the entrance area of the police department, he cast a glance at the bench… and his heart nearly stopped. 

The man looked up, feeling eyes on him, and then rose to his feet. He didn’t say anything, his expression that of someone uncertain. Dark, thick hair, blue eyes, pale brown suit and dark red tie… 

Lassiter blinked, completely stunned. “Sean?” 

“Carlton.” The other man stood where he was, unmoving, hands clasped behind his back as he watched Lassiter. “Hello.”

“What are you–” Lassiter shook his head, still reeling. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you; it’s been a long time.” Sean paused. “Long enough that you aren’t even going by the same surname.” 

Lassiter bit back a sigh. He wasn’t sure if Sean was just tired or purposely trying to make him feel guilty. “Yeah, I changed it a while back. You know why.” The old name - the one Sean probably still went by - held too many bitter memories, and Lassiter had wanted no part of it.

There was a moment of silence. Lassiter knew without looking that the receptionists were listening closely to every single word and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “I was just on my way home. Do you have a place to stay?”

Sean shook his head. “I was going to find a hotel after I saw you.”

“Forget it,” Lassiter said, perhaps a bit more gruffly than he meant to. “You can stay with me.” He glanced back in the direction he had come from. “C’mon. Let’s go before Spencer shows up again.” He walked toward the door.

“The man in the green shirt?” Sean asked, following. 

“Yes. The thorn in my side,” Lassiter grumbled. “Please tell me he didn’t talk to you.” 

“He thought I was you, I think.” 

Lassiter gave a wry smile and a short mirthless laugh. “I’m sorry, then. He lives to annoy me.” 

“Considering he called me ‘Lassie-face’, I can only imagine,” Sean mused.

“Let’s hope imagining is all you have to do from now on,” Lassiter retorted. He started the engine of his car and waited for Sean to get in. 

Then, still dazed from everything that had happened in one night, he turned out of the police department’s parking lot and started toward home.


	2. Catching Up (Sort Of)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lassiter and Sean sit down for some coffee and a chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised for a lengthier description of this story, so here that is. As you have probably figured out, myself and Grigiocuore were discussing how Sean seemed like Lassiter's younger, slightly softer brother. (Of course, he's simply played by Timothy Omundson years before _Psych_ , but that's irrelevant.) 
> 
> The idea wouldn't go away, so I decided to write a fic where this was the case - Sean and Lassiter were brothers. It was intended to be a one-shot: but that wasn't meant to be. There is going to be multiple chapters of this, as I have a plotline and everything. I hope to have this be the first longer-than-10k fic (or story in general) I've written in ages so we'll see how it goes. Let me know what you think!

“Want some coffee or something?” Lassiter asked, walking into the kitchen. 

“Um, sure.” 

He glanced over his shoulder. Sean was still standing by the front door, looking around at the house and taking it all in. His suitcase rested on the floor at his feet.

“How do you take it?” Lassiter started fiddling with the coffeemaker. All he could really focus on was simple activities and questions; everything else still needed time to process.

“Just black, four sugars,” Sean replied. 

Lassiter started the coffee. When he looked back, Sean was still standing by the door, unmoving. “You’re allowed to wander around, you know.”

Sean shifted from one foot to the other for a moment before nodding and picking up his suitcase. Then he looked around the room, a slightly puzzled expression on his face. 

With a quiet sigh, Lassiter approached. “You can sleep on the sofa, or the guest room. It’s your call.” 

“You have a guest room?” Sean remarked.

“Yes.” Lassiter raised an eyebrow. “What, you don’t think I can afford it? It’s just a one-story house, Sean.” 

“I didn’t say that.” Sean glanced around the room once more. “I’ll stay there, I guess.” 

Lassiter gestured toward the hallway, pointing at each door in turn. “It’s the first room on the right. The one next to that is the office. My room is the last door on the left, and the bathroom is that one.” 

Sean nodded and made his way toward the guest room. Lassiter watched him go, and then went back to finish making the coffee. After pouring two mugs full and putting the proper amount of sugar in each, he returned to the living room and set them down on the coffee table.

He sat down on the sofa and switched the television set on, flipping through channels. Finding nothing worth watching, he took his coffee and leaned back, shutting his eyes briefly. 

“So. A detective, huh? You know, I always thought you’d end up doing something like that.”

Lassiter opened his eyes to see Sean sitting in the armchair, eyebrows raised. “Yeah. It’s a good job. And what is it you do, anyway? I don’t think I ever found out.”

“That’s because we haven’t talked in years,” Sean said. His tone was mostly neutral, but there were very faintly accusing undertones that did not go unnoticed by Lassiter. “What has it been now? Nine?”

“Something like that,” Lassiter said levelly, taking a sip of his coffee. “Anyway; what is it you do?” 

Sean seemed like he wasn’t about to respond to the repeated question, but gave in anyway. “I’m a supervisor at the Department of Children and Families.”

“So a social worker sort of job,” Lassiter remarked. 

“More or less.”

Lassiter gave a short, quiet laugh, taking another drink of his coffee. “I can’t say I’m surprised. It’s the sort of job I can see you in.”

A slightly uncomfortable silence fell. Neither of the two men made eye contact for a few minutes, focusing instead on their own respective coffee mugs. 

Sean was the first one to speak up. “Yes. It’s the job I wanted to have, and it’s the one I ended up with. I guess I’m lucky.”

“That you are.” Lassiter tapped a fingertip against the side of his mug. 

Another silence.

Then Sean spoke again, voice just marginally louder than before. “You always knew where I was. You could have called, or wrote, or something.”

Lassiter sighed. “I didn’t know where you were.”

“You really think I could have left?” Sean asked. “Unlike you, I still had some ties to the family.”

“Don’t even start,” Lassiter said wearily. “I couldn’t stick around after everything that happened. I’m surprised anyone else did. Why did you? It’s not like Dad, or even Mom, gave you much of a reason to stay.”

“They’re family. You don’t just leave family,” Sean replied. “At least, I don’t. Even if something had made it so I had to go across the country, I would have kept in touch.”

“I talk to Mom every Christmas,” Lassiter said defensively, though he knew that was not helping. 

“Yeah, because _she_ calls _you_!” Sean exclaimed. “Nine years and you never bothered to call, or write, or anything of the sort - not to me, not to Eileen, not to Mom. And before that, you refused to even come back to visit!”

“You know why I never visited,” Lassiter retorted, a spark of anger flaring in his chest. “Or maybe you don’t. You never put up with as much from our parents, mainly because I made sure they left you alone!” 

“It’s been years,” Sean said, voice back to the same quiet level it had been at before, but with a slight edge to it. “Can’t you let it go?”

“I can’t let the things our father used to do go, and I can’t let the way Mom just allowed it to happen go. So no, I can’t,” Lassiter said. “Good for you, you forgave them. I haven’t. I won’t.” He tipped his head back, downing half of his mug of coffee and ignoring the way it still slightly burned his throat on the way down. “Look. You’re right. It’s been nine years. So let’s not fight, huh?”

Silence fell once again, until finally Sean took a sip of his coffee, still not looking at Lassiter. “Fine.” 

“Good.” Lassiter glanced at Sean, watching him for a moment. “So… what’s it like, at your job? Busy, I’m guessing?”

“Always.” Sean ran a thumb along the rim of his mug. “It’s a handful sometimes, but I manage.”

“Obviously; you said you were the supervisor,” Lassiter remarked. 

“Mmhm.” Sean paused for a minute. “Though, credit where it’s due, I don’t think I would do quite as well as I do if I didn’t have help.”

“Who’s the help?” Lassiter asked. Then a thought made its way into his head, causing his stomach to turn. “Don’t tell me you’re married.” If he had missed something as important as his brother’s wedding… 

Sean laughed. “No. I’m not even seeing anyone; I just don’t have the time. No, it’s a, uh… a woman who’s been a social worker for a long time. Her name is Maxine. She knows more about it all than me, or anyone else working there. I’d have probably quit a long time ago if it wasn’t for her.”

“Huh.” Lassiter thought that over for a minute, before deciding it was his turn to give a little insight to his life. “I can’t say I’d quit my job if I didn’t have help. But I have a partner; Detective Juliet O’Hara. She’s a huge help to the police department, and probably the best partner I’ve ever had.”

“Was she at the police station tonight?” Sean asked, voice tinged with curiosity.

“No. She went home earlier than I did,” Lassiter said.

“You probably stay late as often as you can,” Sean remarked. 

Lassiter frowned at him. Their eyes met, and Sean laughed a bit. “You used to stay up way past bedtime doing homework or reading. It’s not like I forgot. It makes sense you’d still have that habit.”

With a scoff, Lassiter stood up and went to the kitchen to place his empty coffee mug in the sink. “Yeah, all right, you got me. I generally put in late hours, but only because the department needs my help.”

“Of course.” Sean’s voice was neutral enough that Lassiter couldn’t tell whether the words were sarcastic or genuine.

Silence fell for a fourth time, but it wasn’t quite as uncomfortable this time. Lassiter returned to the sofa and sat down. After a moment, he asked, “Wanna watch something? Nothing’s on TV, but I have some DVDs.”

“Sure.” Sean looked at the television’s black screen, considering it. “Do you have any Westerns? You used to like those.”

“Are you serious?” Lassiter asked, crouching down beside the television and flipping through the DVDs below it. “I still like them. Of course I have Westerns. Do you want to watch _Pale Rider_ or _Star In The Dust_? I have others, but I’ll have to dig around in the drawer for them.”

“ _Pale Rider_.” Sean rubbed at the back of his neck. “I haven’t actually seen that one.”

Lassiter slipped the DVD on and pushed play, returning to his seat on the sofa. “I have a few times.”

“Let’s be honest with each other, Carlton. You’ve probably seen every Western on the planet at least once,” Sean said.

“Oh, come on, that’s ridiculous,” Lassiter scoffed. “I haven’t seen…” He paused, trying to think of a Western title he hadn’t watched before. “I haven’t seen them all. I’m sure there are ones out there I’ve never even heard of.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Sean hide a grin or a smirk - with him, it could be either depending on the mood - behind his hand. “Laugh it up, _baby_ brother. I bet you still watch embarrassing amounts of science-fiction and cheesy rom-coms.”

“Don’t call me that,” Sean said, lips set in a thin line. They curved upward just slightly after a moment. “Well, you’ll never know, will you?”

“I knew it. You do.” Lassiter leaned back with a smug smile. 

Sean opened his mouth to protest, but the film started and Lassiter pressed a finger to his lips, shushing his brother. “The movie’s starting.”

As they sat there in silence, watching the story unfold on the screen, Lassiter found he couldn’t focus on the film. Instead, he thought on how surreal this all was - to be sitting in a living room, watching a film with his little brother; this was something he hadn’t done in over a decade. Sweet justice… had it really been that long? 

He pushed the thought away, refusing to feel guilty for not even keeping in contact all that time. The past was past. For now, as strange as it felt, he was in the here and now; and Sean was with him too. 

He could feel guilty later. For now, he just wanted to enjoy the present.


	3. A Split Lip And a Handful of Lies

_“Sean? Sean!”_

_Carlton walked out on the porch and looked around. He hadn’t seen his brother at all since they had left for school that morning; he should have been home by now…_

_He made his way across the yard and started walking down the road. He’d have to find Sean himself - before their parents got home._

_The town was quiet at this time of day; a few elderly folk were out for walks, and some kids were running around instead of going home directly after school. Cars drove past and various men and women walked to and from jobs._

_He spotted someone he recognised as one of Sean’s classmates and ran up to them, cutting them off so they had to stop walking. “Hey. You seen Sean?”_

_They gave him the strangest look - a mixture of apprehension and concern they tried to hide. Then they pointed down the street. “Playground.”_

_Carlton frowned, mainly at their facial expression. Without saying anything more, he brushed past them and started toward the park. He knew there was trouble even before he came into view of his brother._

_Sean was on the ground, cornered by a couple boys from Carlton’s class, which made him even angrier. He could hear the older boys laughing and saying things, but didn’t bother trying to discern the exact words. He broke into a run, jumping over the old seesaw and all but crashing into one of the other boys._

_He rolled away to avoid being pinned to the ground; a fist connected with his ribs and he let out a hiss from between clenched teeth, lashing out with his foot in a kick toward the other boy’s stomach._

_The two of them were on their feet now, throwing punches. Carlton was taller than his opponent, but also skinnier; he felt it was an equal match, though. After a hit to his jaw, he decided that the fisticuffs weren’t getting them anywhere. So he hooked a foot around the boy’s ankles and swept forward, knocking him off his feet._

_While the other boy was down, Carlton stepped around him and instinctively put himself between Sean and the boys. “What the hell is going on, Brandon?”_

_Brandon finally recovered from being knocked down and got to his feet, brushing himself off with a scowl. “What did you do that for?”_

_“What, knock you down? I don’t know, maybe I thought it’d be fun,” Carlton retorted. “Now answer my question. What are you doing?”_

_“Nothing.” The other boys repeated the word, a chorus of ‘nothing’s._

_Carlton grit his teeth and turned around. Sean was still sitting on the ground, staring down and refusing to make eye contact with anyone. “Sean, what happened?”_

_There was a beat of silence. Sean glanced up very quickly at the other boys then back down. “Nothing.”_

_Carlton rolled his eyes and reached down, taking Sean’s arm and hauling him to his feet. Then he looked back at the other boys, who were still watching with infuriatingly smug expressions on their face. “Like hell it was nothing. If I catch any of you near my brother again, I’ll knock your teeth out.”_

_He pushed past them, still holding Sean’s arm, and walked back toward the street. The two brothers remained silent until they got home and entered the kitchen. Then Carlton turned around, spark of anger in his chest. “All right, what was going on?”_

_Sean hung back near the door. Carlton let out an irritated huff and approached, examining Sean up and down for injuries. A scrape on his arm, dirt on the knees of his trousers and his face… nothing too serious. “Are you okay?”_

_“Yeah.” Sean pulled away._

_“What happened?” Carlton’s arm shot out, blocking the way out of the kitchen. “Why were they harassing you?”_

_“They weren’t. It’s fine,” Sean said, scowling._

_“Look, I’m not gonna ask you again!” Carlton burst out. “I need to do my chores before Mom and Dad get home, and I’m not going to until you tell me what happened.”_

_Sean sighed, refusing to make eye contact. “I was just at the park playing. I was pretending the merry-go-round was a spaceship, and they walked past and started making fun of me. They pushed me down when I tried to get away. Is that enough for you? Can I go now?”_

_“No.” Carlton kept his arm barring the exit. “They were making fun of you because you’re ten and need to stop playing pretend. You know that.”_

_“It’s not even hurting them!” Sean exclaimed. “Why should what I do by myself with my own free time bother them?”_

_Carlton didn’t have an answer to this. “I don’t know. Maybe they just expect kids to grow up.”_

_“Okay, okay,” Sean said. “Can I go now? I have homework.”_

_“Fine.” Carlton stepped away from the door and walked over to the sink, retrieving the trash can and going to take the garbage out._

_On his way back inside, he nearly ran into Sean. “I thought you were going to do your homework.”_

_“I was.” Sean pointed at Carlton’s face. “But I wanted to tell you your lip was bleeding. You probably didn’t notice.”_

_He was right. Carlton hadn’t noticed. He reached up and touched his lip, and his finger came away smeared with read. “Huh. You’re right. Thanks, baby brother.”_

_“Don’t call me that,_ old man _,” Sean retorted. “You’re only five years older than me.”_

_“Don’t you forget it.” Carlton pressed his sleeve to his mouth, shoving Sean’s shoulder with the other. “Now go do your homework, or Dad’ll get mad when he gets home.”_

_Sean sighed and ran up the stairs. Carlton stood there for a long moment, sleeve pressed against his bleeding lip, before returning to his chores._

_For whatever reason, neither their mother nor their father came home on time, meaning it was just Carlton and Sean; their sister was away for the weekend on some trip for school._

_“Hey.”_

_“What is it?” Carlton looked up from the book he was reading for school._

_“I’m going to make dinner; Mom and Dad aren’t home yet and I’m hungry,” Sean replied. “Do you want anything? I was just going to make potatoes and soup.”_

_“That’s fine.” Carlton turned back to his book. “I’ll help once I finish this chapter, okay?”_

_Sean nodded and disappeared again._

_After about fifteen minutes, Carlton set his book down and made his way downstairs. Sean was in the kitchen, stirring a pot on the stove. He wasn’t particularly worried about whether his little brother could handle it; they had grown very used to making their own meals, because no one ever knew when their parents would get home._

_“Move over,” Carlton said, coming up beside Sean and nudging him out of the way with his hip. “Have you gotten the potatoes ready yet?” He took the soup ladle away from Sean and took over stirring the soup._

_“No.” Sean disappeared into the pantry. From inside, he called, “Should I make Mom and Dad something to eat too? They’ll probably be hungry.”_

_Carlton bit his tongue to keep from saying they shouldn’t give a damn about their parents’ needs, since their parents didn’t give a damn about their own children’s needs. Instead, he replied, “Sure.”_

_The two of them worked together, eventually getting into a conversation about aliens and cowboys and discussing what might happen if extraterrestrials had visited the Wild West. Carlton was convinced the aliens would have fled upon meeting opposition from any sheriff or lawman they came across. Sean, however, insisted that the aliens would have effectively destroyed the entire planet. Carlton was fighting a losing battle. But that was half the fun._

_They were so entrapped in their conversation that they didn’t hear the front door open, nor the footsteps enter the room, until they were both hauled away from the stove by their shirt collars._

_Carlton’s instincts kicked in and he yanked himself free from whoever it was and stood in front of Sean. Then he noticed who the intruder was, just as Sean spoke:_

_“Hey, Dad.”_

_“What’ve I told you two about messing with the stove?” Their father picked up the soup ladle, peering into the pot. Carlton automatically tensed up, squaring his shoulders._

_“We were making dinner,” Sean said, stepping out from behind Carlton. “You and Mom weren’t home so we thought we’d have dinner ready for when you got home.”_

_“I told you two never to use the stove.” He turned around, looking the boys up and down. “Carlton, what the hell happened to you?”_

_At first, Carlton didn’t understand the question; then he remembered his split lip and the bruise forming over his cheekbone. “Um... “_

_Sean started to speak. “He had to--”_

_Carlton interrupted; there was no way he was going to let Sean get in trouble for this. “It was my fault. I was out walking after I got home from school while Sean did his homework. Got into a scrap with some of the other guys from my class.”_

_He could hear Sean trying to protest, but their father interjected. “Thought you were supposed to come home right after school and do your chores.”_

_“I know,” Carlton said, resisting the urge to hunch his shoulders under his father’s stern gaze. “Sorry. I got all the chores done though.”_

_“I told you to do them right after school.”_

_Carlton tensed again. “I know.”_

_His father seized his shoulder in a vice-like grip, starting to push him toward the door. Just as Carlton had resigned himself to what was going to happen next, his mother got home. “Brian! What are you doing? Let him go.”_

_Oh, thank God. It was one of the nights when she actually was bothering to step in and intervene._

_His mother and father started bickering - as usual - and he returned to the kitchen. Sean was standing by the counter, looking some mixture of confused, worried, and upset._

_“C’mon,” Carlton said, ignoring how his shoulder ached. “Dinner’s ready. Let’s eat.”_

_“But what about--”_

_“They’ll eat when they’re ready,” Carlton replied. “You said you were hungry and that was an hour and a half ago. You need to eat.”_

_Sean clearly wanted to protest some more, but instead ladled soup into two bowls and took them to the table. He and Carlton sat down to eat, ignoring the sounds of their parents arguing in the living room._

_“Carlton?”_

_“Yeah?”_

_“Thanks for… for today.”_

_Carlton turned his head sideways. He could see Sean’s shape in the bed across the room, a faint outline in the dim light coming through the window. “You’re welcome.”_

_Silence fell for a moment. Then: “Why’d you lie to Dad? You could have gotten in trouble.”_

_Carlton paused for a second before responding. “Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.”_

_“Yeah, but why’d you lie?”_

_“They were my classmates, so it was my responsibility,” Carlton said. It was a non-answer, and he knew that. He just hoped Sean would accept it. “Don’t worry about it. Go to sleep; you don’t want to doze off in class tomorrow.”_

_There was quiet, and then Sean said, “Okay. Goodnight, Carlton.”_

_Carlton rolled over onto his back, folding his arms behind his head. At first, he didn’t say anything. Then he shut his eyes, focusing on nothing but the sound of the wind outside and his brother’s breathing.._

_“Goodnight, Sean.”_


	4. Bring Your Brother To Work Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter, this time in the present day and not a flashback. Credit where it is due; the 'Happy Lassie' bit was Grigiocuore's idea, which I borrowed. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this latest update! Feel free to leave feedback.

Lassiter walked into the bathroom in nothing but his trousers, looking into the mirror and using it to help him button his shirt. He had managed to get a few hours of sleep - more than usual, anyway - and decided that would have to be good enough. Sure, he was tired, and sure, O’Hara had told him to take a few days off, but Carlton Lassiter didn’t take days off unless he was forced to.

He brushed his teeth, slipped into his coat, and double-checked his hair. He had showered earlier and styled his hair so that the waves wouldn’t be so uncontrollable, but sometimes he had to redo it. 

Not this time though, so he finished his morning routine and walked out to the kitchen. He had managed to get up early enough; he had time to make some coffee and drink it in the peace of his own home.

He pulled a mug from the cupboard, brewing the coffee while he started breakfast.

“Good morning.”

His heart jumped and he spun around, ready to reach for his gun, because there was a voice, and there shouldn’t be, because he had locked the door last night…

Then he saw Sean standing at the entrance to the kitchen, dressed in pale blue-and-white striped pyjamas, eyes slightly wide and hands held out in front of himself. “O _kay_ … maybe I shouldn’t have surprised you like that.” 

Lassiter breathed a quiet sigh and lowered his hand. “It’s fine. I forgot you were here. Do you want breakfast?”

“I don’t know, what are you making?” Sean stepped into the kitchen and wandered over.

“Toast, coffee, and scrambled eggs,” Lassiter replied. “I can make hashbrowns for you if you want, though.”

“Come on, I’m not a kid anymore, Carlton.”

Lassiter laughed in spite of himself. “I didn’t say you were. Just because you liked hashbrowns with ketchup as a kid doesn’t mean you’ve stopped liking it.”

“Toast, coffee, and eggs are fine,” Sean said, flicking Lassiter’s shoulder. “Maybe we can have hashbrowns tomorrow, if you aren’t sick of me being around by then.”

“How long do you plan on staying?” Lassiter asked, pushing the lever on the toaster down.

Sean sat down at the table. “I don’t know. A while, maybe, or maybe just a few days.”

Lassiter blinked, frowning. He adjusted the settings on the toaster, then walked over to the table, pulled a chair out, and swung a leg over the back, sitting down. “Okay, what’s wrong?”

Sean returned his frown. “Nothing.”

“Don’t give me that crap,” Lassiter retorted. “I know when something’s wrong, and your voice is telling me there is.”

Sean rolled his eyes. “That was a long time ago. You haven’t even heard my voice in nine years. I’m pretty sure you’re just imagining something. Everything is fine.” 

The words stung. Mainly because the realisation had finally struck that he really _hadn’t_ heard his brother’s voice in nine years, or even seen his face beyond a few photographs he still had. It almost hurt, even though it hadn’t before.

“Everything except the fact your scrambled eggs are burning.”

Lassiter was brought back to reality when his brother spoke again, and he got up to save the eggs. He still didn’t believe Sean, but that couldn’t be helped right now. He had to make breakfast, and then go to work. Besides, Sean had the ability to be very stubborn; if he didn’t want to talk about something, he wasn’t going to - at least not without extensive badgering from Lassiter.

Before long, breakfast was finished. Lassiter set the plates of food and mugs of coffee on the table and started to eat. Neither of them said much; but then, neither of them had ever been overly talkative. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence in the least.

Then something occurred to Lassiter. “So what are you going to be doing today?”

Sean glanced up, taking a moment to finish swallowing his food before responding. “I don’t know, actually.” 

“Well, I’m not sure how kindly the chief would take to you tagging along with me to work,” Lassiter remarked, only half-joking. “I could ask for a day off and show you around if you want.” The idea didn’t appeal to him; he needed to work, and he needed to show up to his job whenever possible. But if he needed to, he supposed he could take one day off. “Or have someone I know show you around.”

Someone besides Spencer, that is. There had to be someone else besides him - though Lassiter couldn’t think of anyone else off the top of his head. He knew O’Hara, Guster, McNab, and Spencer’s father Henry. That was about it. Three of those people would be at work all day.

“I’m not a child, I am capable of exploring Santa Barbara myself,” Sean replied. “I’ll be fine.”

“Why don’t you come with me to work anyway, though?” Lassiter suggested. “You can meet O’Hara. You seemed interested in meeting her last night. Just know that if you flirt with her, I’m going to be thoroughly disgusted.” He raised his eyebrows, indicating he was only teasing - at least mostly.

Sean placed a hand over his face. “Carlton, stop. I don’t know a single thing about her. No need to worry about me stealing your girl.”

“She’s not my girl, shut up,” Lassiter retorted. “Just my partner. And if you don’t want to meet her, fine, I can--”

“Calm down, calm down,” Sean said. “Sure, I’d like to see where you work and all that. It might be interesting.”

“Great.” Lassiter finished his breakfast and took the dishes to the sink. “I have to interrogate a couple of guys at some point today, but before that all I have is paperwork as far as I know. So I should have time to show you around. Now hurry and finish your food, and get out of those pyjamas into something decent. I need to leave in ten minutes. Fifteen at the max.”

Sean nodded, unable to speak through a mouthful of food. Lassiter turned the sink on and started to wash the dishes.

 

Lassiter opened the door to the police department, holding it briefly so that Sean could get a hold of it before walking inside. Everything looked normal; the receptionists were chattering amongst themselves, and beat cops were milling around. 

He made his way back toward his desk without really surveying the room, setting his folder down. 

“This is where you work, huh?” Sean asked, coming up beside him. He had, of course, changed out of his pyjamas before they left and now wore a grey coat and trousers, along with a white shirt and dark red necktie.

“Sometimes,” Lassiter responded, opening the drawer out of habit and checking to make sure all the contents were there. “Or I’m out at a crime scene. It’s half-and-half.” 

Sean laughed a little. “Somehow, the image of you on a crime scene doesn’t take much imagining.”

“Probably because you always used to tell me you saw me becoming a policeman or a soldier someday,” Lassiter replied, raising his eyebrows. “You weren’t far off the mark at all. Congratulations on that detective work.”

“It wasn’t detective work, just common sense,” Sean said. “You were practically a policeman as a kid anyway, always monitoring what I did and reminding me of the rules.” 

“That’s just what older brothers do,” Lassiter said with a slight scoff. “It had nothing to do with my future plans.”

“Sure it didn’t.” Sean reached out and pulled a sheet of paper closer.

Lassiter glanced at it. “That’s a police report. I have to take a look at it later. Probably after the interrogation.”

“Who are you interrogating anyway?” Sean sounded genuinely curious. 

“A couple of thugs who were fighting over a girl last night,” Lassiter replied, scowling at the mere thought of it. “Literally fighting, that is. I had to pull my gun to get them to stop what they were doing.”

Sean’s brow wrinkled slightly, as did his nose. He made an irritated noise. “Is the girl okay?”

“She had a head injury. I don’t know how bad it was; we still need to get word back from the hospital. She seemed okay; at least, she didn’t seem like it was going to be fatal,” Lassiter replied. 

Before the discussion could continue, a familiar voice cut in. “Carlton! Good morning.”

Lassiter turned around to see his partner approaching. “Morning, O’Hara.” 

She started to speak but stopped when Sean turned around. Her eyes flickered from him to Lassiter and back again before she composed herself. “And good morning to you too! I don’t think I know you.”

“Hi.” He held out his hand with a cordial sile. “I’m Sean P--”

Lassiter interrupted, heart rate spiking slightly. O’Hara didn’t know about the fact Lassiter had changed his surname, and he didn’t fancy trying to explain it to her right now. “This is Sean. He’s my brother.”

“Well, hello, Sean.” O’Hara shook his hand. “I’m Juliet. Detective Juliet O’Hara. Carlton, I didn’t know you had a brother.” She sounded surprised, but in a pleasant sort of way.

Lassiter winced inwardly. “I know I’ve mentioned it before. It probably slipped your mind.”

He hadn’t mentioned it before. He had never wanted to bring it up, because bringing it up would have meant questions. 

O’Hara seemed like she was about to dispute that fact - and with good reason, she rarely forgot things, especially not random information about those she called friends - but she looked just marginally closer at Lassiter’s face and didn’t say anything more on the subject. “Nice to meet you, Sean. What are you doing here? Just visiting?”

“Yeah,” he replied. “Just visiting.”

She nodded with a smile. “That’s great. So, tell me a bit about yourself. What do you do?”

Lassiter sat down at his desk and started sorting through folders full of paper, more than happy to let his brother and his cheerful partner get acquainted without his involvement. He made sure to listen carefully though; if Sean started to say something Lassiter didn’t want O’Hara knowing, he needed to be able to interrupt.

“I’m a supervisor at the Department of Children and Families.” 

“Nice.” O’Hara took a sip of her coffee. “Where?” 

“Hartford, Connecticut.”

“Wow. That’s pretty far away.”

“Yeah, I know,” Sean responded.”But it’s been a while since I’ve gone on a trip; I figured I should make my way out here and see what it was like. And see Carlton again. It’s been a pretty long time since he and I saw each other.”

He spoke the words nonchalantly and without a single hint of indignation or malice, but still Lassiter felt a twinge of guilt. He scowled and tried to focus on the police report in front of him.

“Well, if it isn’t Lassie! And Happy Lassie.”

Oh, no.

Lassiter looked up just in time to see Spencer and Guster ambling across the room toward his desk. Sean looked away from O’Hara as well, seeming mildly confused.

“Wow. You two could be twins,” Guster remarked. Then he raised both eyebrows. “Are you? I mean, Lassiter looks more stressed, but…” 

Lassiter resisted the urge to roll his eyes, mainly because the ‘are you twins’ question had been one he heard all too often as a kid. “No. I’m older.”

“Yes, he is,” Sean conceded, shaking his head slightly. “I don’t think we’ve been introduced.” He held out his hand. “I’m Sean.” 

He didn’t try to say his last name this time.

Spencer’s eyes widened and he and Guster exchanged a stare. Then he reached out and grasped Sean’s hand - which he held instead of shaking. “No way. I’m Shawn. Shawn Spencer, psychic detective. This is my partner, Buzz Lightyear.” 

“What a coincidence…” Sean tried to tug his hand away from Spencer, who didn’t seem too keen on letting go, and glanced at Guster with some confusion.

“My name is Burton Guster, but you can call me Gus.” He shot a glare at his friend, clearly fed up with being introduced as anything other than his real name.

Lassiter reached out and slapped Spencer’s hand, shocking him into letting go of Sean. “Knock it off, Spencer.” 

Sean glanced at Lassiter with no small amount of surprise. “It’s fine, Carlton.” 

Lassiter shook his head. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you about him.” He went back to his desk and sat down again. 

“But since _I’m_ Shawn, I can’t call you that,” Spencer said with an air of regret. “So you’re Happy Lassie. Because he’s Grumpy Lassie.” He pointed at Lassiter, who made a point of ignoring him.

“I, um…” Sean sounded at a loss for words. “My name’s not Lassie.” 

“It is now. Well, Happy Lassie. Which kind of sounds like a drug, but isn’t,” Spencer rambled on. “ So, why are you even here? Is it Bring Your Brother To Work Day? Why didn't I know?"

"Probably because you don't have a brother, Shawn," Guster pointed out. 

"No, it's not. At least, not as far as I know," Sean replied. "I'm here for a while to visit, that's all."

"Awesome." Spencer flashed him a bright grin. "Anyway, sorry to chat and run but me and Gus have important detective business to attend to.” 

“Did you say psychic detective earlier?” Sean asked slowly. 

“Yes, indeed,” Spencer replied. “It’s like being a regular detective but about five times more glamorous, and with more contact with the spirits.” 

Lassiter glanced up from his paperwork. Spencer had, as was normal for him, invaded personal space by taking a step closer and resting a hand on Sean’s shoulder. 

Sean did what he usually did in such cases - ducked out from underneath Spencer’s hand and backed away a few steps, all in one smooth movement. “I see.” He sounded interested, but nowhere near as awed as most people were when Spencer chattered to them about being a psychic.

It made Lassiter more than a little proud; his kid brother was smart enough not to fall hook-line-and-sinker for Spencer’s act when most people weren’t. 

“Detective Lassiter, Detective O’Hara.” 

Lassiter instinctively rose to his feet, standing up straight. “Chief.” 

“I need you both to interrogate those men that were brought in last night. They--” Vick stopped short, head tilting slightly when she noticed Sean.

He gave her an amiable smile, offering his hand. “Hello, ma’am. I’m Sean. Lassiter’s brother.”

She raised an eyebrow, glancing from Lassiter to Sean before shaking his hand. “Don’t call me ma’am. It’s Chief Vick.” 

“Chief Vick.” He nodded. “Right. Pleasure to meet you.” 

She returned the nod, then looked back at O’Hara and Lassiter. “Okay, as I was saying, they’re in the first interrogation room waiting now.” 

“We’ll get right on that, chief,” Lassiter said. He watched as she walked off, then turned back to Sean. “Sorry. I didn’t realise she’d need me so soon.” 

“I’m grown up, I can handle myself,” Sean replied. “You go do what you have to get done. I’m going to go take a look around.”

“Me and Gus can show you around,” Spencer offered immediately.

“I thought you said you had psychic detective business to attend to,” Sean said, expression unreadable.

“The spirits changed their minds and there isn’t actually any business to conduct here, psychic or otherwise,” Spencer said breezily. “So, what do you say. Me and Gus know all the best places to hang out here in Santa Babs.”

Sean looked at Lassiter again, face still unreadable.

Lassiter wondered if Sean was as aggravated by Spencer as he was. “You’re on your own, Sean. If you want these two to show you around, fine. If you don’t, you’re gonna have to tell them no. Or possibly beat them off with a stick. They’re stubborn as hell.”

Sean did not look comforted by that, and turned back to Spencer and Guster. “Uh, sure, I guess. Just until lunch though, then I’d like to look around myself for a little while.” 

“You’re making a mistake,” Lassiter said under his breath, though his lips twitched upward in a half-smile. Oh, Sean was in for one hell of a time. “Right, well, I’m off. Have… fun, Sean.” 

Sean seemed on the verge of rolling his eyes. “You too.” To O’Hara, he said, “It was a pleasure to meet you by the way, Detective.” 

She smiled and nodded. “Nice to meet you too.” 

With a brief wave, Lassiter turned and made his way toward the interrogation room, O’Hara following. Behind them, fading more and more as they moved further away, they could hear Spencer chattering away energetically to Sean about various places in Santa Barbara.


End file.
